


Un cambio de aires

by AirinK



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Angst, F/M, Firenze | Florence, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Mutual Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-21 01:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21291191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirinK/pseuds/AirinK
Summary: AU. After her divorce, Raquel decides she needs some time for herself, so she leaves Paula with her mom and goes to Florence. Meanwhile, Sergio is at the monastery, planning the heist with Andrés.
Relationships: Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 15
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THIS: This story was originally written in Spanish, because it didn't feel right to write about Serquel in English. But since I have friends in the fandom who don't know any Spanish, I decided to translate it and post it here. If you want to read it in Spanish, I'll be posting it on Wattpad, under the same title. And you can find the link on my twitter (@notaffairytale) :)

**_Uitwaaien_ (Dutch):** To take a break to clear one's head; lit. "to walk in the wind".

* * *

A noise brings Raquel Murillo back to the present. Reluctantly, she tears her eyes from the window to look at her phone, and she sighs when she sees who’s calling her. But she answers the call anyway.

“Hey, Angel.”

“Raquel! What has happened? Why aren’t you there? They have told me you took some days off, is it true? But where –?”

“Yes, Angel, it’s true,” she interrupts him before his questions make her head explode. “I’ve decided to come to Florence for a few days.”

She can almost hear the gears running in her friend’s head while he processes what she’s just told him, and she steels herself for another round of questions.

“Florence? In Italy?” For a second, Raquel considers throwing her phone out of the window, but then she thinks that she’ll need it to talk with her daughter. “Why? How long are you going to be there? What about Paula?”

“No, in Australia,” she snaps. Then she regrets it –her friend is just worried about her, after all. “Yes, I’m in Italy. I’m sorry for not telling you before, but I needed some time for myself. And Paula is in Almazán, at my mom’s.”

“It’s because of Alberto, right?” Angel says after a few moments, his voice soft, and Raquel feels a lump form in her throat.

She decides to not answer and makes a noncommittal noise instead.

“You deserve someone better than that son of a bitch.” Of course he wouldn’t get her hint. “If you ever want to talk to someone or you need a hug, tell me. I can catch the first flight and I’ll be in Florence whenever you want, huh.”

She’s thankful that Angel couldn’t see her face because it would have been impossible to hide her grimace at the thought of having him here, with her.

“Thanks, Angel. I think I want to be alone these days, but if I need you, I’ll let you know.”

“Sure. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.” Raquel looks at her phone for some moments before turning it off.

All of these months of divorce proceedings and her struggle for getting full custody of her daughter have worn her out. And the fact that she sees the son of a bitch of her ex-husband almost every day at the station doesn’t help her at all. So, right now, she doesn’t want to know anything about her life in Spain, except for her mom and Paula, of course.

A chill runs through her body when she thinks about Alberto. She shakes her head, trying to bury her thoughts and looks out the window again.

The scenery has changed in the few minutes she’s been distracted: there are historical buildings, painted in white and yellow. The car turns a corner and for a second, she can see the Duomo, in the distance. She smiles.

Maybe coming here was a good idea, after all.

* * *

Panting, she drops her luggage on a side table in her room. She had forgotten that hotels like these usually don’t have lifts and she’s had to climb three stories, in a spiral staircase. But she looks around and her room, although simple, is cozy, and the hotel is in a good location. She glances at the bed and thinks it would be nice to lie down for a bit, as she feels tired to the bone. However, she hasn’t travelled almost 1,300 kilometres to be asleep during the entirety of her trip. She grabs her sunglasses and jacket, goes downstairs to the lobby to ask for directions to the _Galleria dell’Accademia_, and exits the hotel.

On her way, she decides that she needs a cigarette to clear her head even more. With the first inhalation, she lets the smoke reach the deepest part of her being, before letting it out. With every puff, she feels the tension leave her shoulders and her back, which allows her to appreciate the Florentine streets, with its pale-coloured buildings and two-leafed windows. It’s a beautiful city, there’s no doubt about that, and when she arrives at the gallery, she notices she’s already more relaxed than she’s been in… the last two years.

She throws the cigarette butt, pays her entrance, and walks until she’s in a long room, with sculptures at the sides, and she can see the David, in another room in the back. –according to her map, she’s in the Hall of Prisioners. She walks to one of the statues and tries to read the info in one of the plaques, but it’s in English and Italian, and she fails to fully understand it. She frowns and looks at the booklet in Spanish they have given her at the entrance, hoping it would shed some light on the sculpture.

–_Michelangelo decise di non finire le sculture apposta_.

Startled, Raquel turns around and there’s a man by her side. He’s a lot taller than her, with a beard that’s several days old, and his brown eyes are hiding behind black glasses. His lips are curved into a shy, but irresistible smile… Someone crashes against her arm, pulling her out of her trance, and she realises that she’s been staring at him for longer than socially acceptable.

“Excuse me?” It’s all she’s able to say.

The man’s cheeks redden a little and he pushes his glasses with his thumb while he lets out a nervous laugh. This makes Raquel feel a twinge in her lower belly.

“I was telling you that Michelangelo decided to not finish these sculptures on purpose…” He stays silent, but she has the feeling that he wants to say something else, so she nods, encouraging him to continue. “Because he wanted to portray people’s struggle to free themselves from their ties.”

These words touch her deeply and she feels that he’s not just talking about the sculptures, but also about himself. And about herself, even though there is no way that he could know that. She blinks, trying to think of an appropriate answer, but her mind is completely blank. In the end, she just smiles.

“I’m Raquel,” she says, offering a hand.

He looks at her, confused, as if he hadn’t expected her to shake his hand or to tell him her name. His reaction amuses her a bit, and she guesses he’s someone who isn’t used to interact with others. She’s about to lower her arm when he reacts and extends his hand, too.

“Ah, I’m Sergio.”

Sparkles run through her arm the moment his hand touches hers. She can’t help but to prolong the moment, feeling his skin, soft and warm, against hers, but she finally lets him go.

She turns to look at the man –Sergio. His brows are furrowed and he’s looking at her with curious eyes, his stare so penetrating that she feels exposed, like he knows all of her secrets. She swallows when she realises why: he’s also felt that electricity.

Suddenly, she feels the need to fill the silence, to think about anything else but in his stare.

“Are you Spanish?” She asks the first thing that comes to her mind. As soon as the words come out of her mouth, she notices that her question is too random, and she wants to kick herself.

He blinks a couple times at the unexpected question, before laughing.

It’s like music for her ears.

“Yes, I’m from San Sebastián,” Raquel’s face brightens “but I’m an Art History professor at the University of Florence, and that’s why I’m here.”

“San Sebastián! My grandparents were from the Basque Country and I used to spend my summers there.”

“Really?”

She nods and they remain silent, not knowing what to say, even though she doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. In fact, a part of her doesn’t want this strange conversation to end. And she doesn’t know why, but she would like to know more about him. She bits her bottom lip while she considers her options. She makes her choice the moment she looks at him in the eye.

“Would you like to come with me? You can show me the museum, if you want to.”

Sergio smiles, and her heart skips a beat when she sees the dimples form in his cheeks.

“I’ll show you the museum.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been months since I first had this idea, but I couldn't give , so, Cris, thank you so much for your help and your awesome ideas! Then it took me a while to start planning and writing, but it's finally here. I also have to thank Mel, who isn't in the fandom, but she cheered me to post this.
> 
> I hope you liked this first chapter!


	2. Koi no Yokan

Two things had happened that day: first, he’d been trying to come up with a distraction tactic for extreme situations, just in case the team would have to leave the Mint as soon as possible. However, he’d just realised that his original plan wouldn’t work.

Then, during breakfast, he’d learned that his brother had told Tatiana everything. Not just about his impossible idea of robbing the Bank of Spain, but even about the damn plan of the Royal Mint. It had been the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Sergio was unable to understand how Andrés could trust Tatiana so blindly that he could say that she wouldn’t run to the police at the first reward they offered. He had already been married five times, each marriage turning out worse than the last one. How could he continue to believe in love? Of course, Andrés could say that it was easy to talk about an emotion when he has never felt it, but to be honest, he wasn’t interested. He had spent most of his life alone, focusing on planning the robbery and keeping his mind and body active. Besides, he saw his brother several times a year, and that was enough for him. He didn't need anyone else by his side.

After that discussion, he’d decided he needed to clear his head a bit. He took his bike, left the monastery and drove to Florence’s city centre, to one of his favourite places. 

He would have never guessed that he’d end up giving a guided tour to a woman. 

A woman that he still doesn’t know why he’d decided to talk to her. He only knows that his eyes had been drawn to her as soon as he’d entered the Hall of Prisoners, like she was the brightest star in the sky. He’d seen her stop in front of one of the statues, frowning and trying to read something in the museum’s booklet. Her lips were parted and her blonde highlights glowed under the artificial light. She was beautiful, no matter from what angle he looked at her. 

His feet had moved involuntarily, taking him to her, and before he knew it, he was telling her something about Michelangelo… and in Italian. He was sure she’d look at him like he was a madman and she’d walk away. But she’d replied and he was able to let go of the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. She even had suggested him that he could stay and join her in her museum visit. 

Now he's there, spouting facts about the statue of David, in his attempt to be a good tour guide. 

“Other two sculptors had already tried to work with this block or marble, but they decided it wasn’t worth the hassle.”

“Why?”

“It had too many irregularities and the marble’s quality was poor. It laid forgotten in the middle of the city, until Michelangelo decided to work with it, and used its flaws in his favour.” He shrugs. “One person’s trash is another person’s treasure.”

He can almost imagine the mocking grin his brother would give him if he was there. _This is not how you seduce a woman, little brother_. He swallows. Why is he thinking about “_seducing_” her? No, he hadn’t approached Raquel for that. Surely he’d only thought of that because of the discussion they’d had earlier. However, he can’t help but to look at her and weigh her reaction –she doesn’t seem bored at all. In fact, her brown eyes are focused on him, and her brow is slightly furrowed, as if she was processing what he’d just told her.

But he decides they should talk about something unrelated to Renaissance art, however fascinating the topic was for him.

“So, you said that you used to spend your summers in the Basque Country…” he talks before she does, although he’s not sure of what else he can say. 

Thankfully, she nods and rescues him. If the sudden change of topic surprises her, she doesn’t show it. 

“My dad was from there, and I was born there, but we moved to Madrid when I was little. After that, we used to visit my grandparents in the town where they lived, but my sister and I loved going to the beach in San Sebastián. I liked to look for sand dollars, decorate them and give them to my parents. I think I gave my mom about a hundred of them, but she always kept every single one one of them.” She laughs and then her lips curves into a nostalgic smile. Sergio thinks she looks even more beautiful. “It’s been a while since the last time I was there. What about you? Did you go to the beach often?”

“No, only three or four times.” At her surprised look, he adds, “When you spend your childhood and most of your teen years bedridden in the hospital, your chances of going to the beach are very limited.”

Sergio has to bite his tongue to stop talking. He’s usually a very meticulous person, someone who must have everything planned by heart, and he likes to meditate on his words before saying them. But, in Raquel’s presence, his mental filters seem to have abandoned him. His words come to life and rush out of his mouth in the moment he thinks them.

He looks at her out of the corner of his eye, but she doesn’t seem to pity him –the usual reaction of the few who know his story. Still, he feels he needs to explain that he hasn’t missed out on much. 

“I hate the sea, the fish and the sand of the beach. I preferred to read my books.”

Raquel looks at him enigmatically, as if she was trying to figure out something about him. “That’s why you decided to teach Art History.”

He nods, surprised. She’s right. Not about everything, but he knows that if the Royal Mint’s heist wasn’t his life project, that if he’d chosen to have a more _normal_ life, he’d have chosen to be a historian. 

Of course, he can’t tell her that, but he can tell her half-truths. 

“Humans are always looking for beauty to make us feel better about ourselves, and reading about art made the hospital corridors look a bit less depressing. Also, my dad was an amateur. He always dreamed of doing a… work of art, but he died before he could do it.”

“That’s a nice gesture. How long have you been teaching in Florence?” 

“This is my first semester here. It’s been an interesting experience, teaching 18-year-old students,” he chuckles. “What’s your job?”

Raquel’s face darkens for a fraction of a second and she shakes her head.

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

He opens and closes his mouth, not knowing how to react. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have –”

“No, no, it’s ok. I’m sorry,” she interrupts him, this time with an apologetic tone and a weak smile. She closes her eyes and sighs. “It wasn’t my intention to be so rude. I like my job, it’s just that… I spend my days surrounded by men who think that wearing a skirt makes my brain fill with air and therefore, I’m unable to make decisions and I’m not worth of their respect.”

She looks at him. He can see her tiredness in her eyes and he senses that it’s not only physical, but also emotional. And there’s another emotion in them that he can’t quite put his finger on, but he knows it’s not a positive one. However, in the seconds she looks at him, he can also see her vulnerability and strength. Her determination for not allowing others to push her down. At her look, Sergio feels a lump form in his throat and he hesitates before replying, feeling that nothing he could say would be appropriate –he has never been dismissed just because of his gender, after all.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “You shouldn’t have to go through this.”

Raquel presses her lips into a thin line and shakes her head. “It’s draining, so… I decided I needed a break, and here I am. And the truth is, I don’t want to talk about my job for now.”

“It’s okay.” He’s about to change the subject when Raquel stops in her tracks. He looks at her and she points somewhere in front of her. 

“It looks like we’ve already toured the entire museum,” she says, raising a brow, and her words have a hint of surprise. 

He turns his head and falls silent. Indeed, they’re already at the gallery’s exit. The same gallery that, every time he comes there, he’s able to immerse himself in more than 300 years of art history, and forget about his surroundings. Apparently, the place had once again fulfilled its purpose of distracting him, but not with its marble statues and oil paintings.

He turns to look at the woman by her side, wondering how could this happen. How could he lose track of time, especially in that place, when it had never happened with other people. 

“It seems so.” She tilts her head with a smile and leaves the place. He has no choice but to follow her.

They get quiet once they’re outside. Rationally, Sergio knows it’s time to say goodbye, and that he probably won’t see her ever again. A part of him wishes that he’d thought of a way to make their museum visit last longer. Because if he’s honest with himself, he’s liked talking to her and he wants to spend more time with her. However, the silence is becoming increasingly uncomfortable and he’s unable to gather up the courage to ask her to do something else. 

“Well,” she finally talks. “it was nice meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you around?”

He’s about to reply, but his brain short circuits the moment her lips make contact against his cheek. He can hear her saying goodbye, but as much as he wants to, he’s unable to answer her. As he watches her walk away and disappear into the crowd, he brings his hand to his cheek, remembering the sensation of her soft lips against his skin.

Then something snaps inside of him, and he has a feeling of déjà vu when his legs move on their own volition, in the same direction in which she had left. He hurries, hoping he won’t lose her in the crowd, and he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees her light hair and her leather jacket. 

“Raquel!”

She stops and turns around, with a look of surprise. “What happened?”

“Would you like to go for dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update. I didn't mean to take so long especially because this chapter was already half-written, but it's been a crazy month. 
> 
> This chapter was originally going to be longer, but it got out of control haha. And I didn't want to make you wait any longer because I haven't started writing the second part, so I decided split it in two. Sorry for the mini cliffhanger, tho! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Your comments make my day :)


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